


feelings are hard (but I feel 'em in my chest)

by justpalsbeingals



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Green Arrow and the Canaries (TV)
Genre: And thus, F/F, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Pining, Secret Crush, basically just laurel having a giant crush and trying to hide it, now featuring a second chapter, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpalsbeingals/pseuds/justpalsbeingals
Summary: It’s fine though. Laurel’s managing to hide this thing just fine.orNothing is fine, because Laurel has a massive crush and Mia and William both call her out on it
Relationships: Dinah Drake/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Comments: 25
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> love going through my drafts and finding things I barely even remember writing. You're welcome friends
> 
> title from Feelings by Lauv

It’s Dinah’s idea: movie night.

Given that Mia has her memories back and William is her partner in crime, it only seems right to invite them over for social purposes. Invite them over to Dinah’s apartment - Laurel’s apartment too, for the time being, although the couch is starting to get uncomfortable - for an evening where they can relax and not think about saving the city for once.

There’s a purely performative knock on the front door before Mia lets herself in. William trails behind. He waves awkwardly, looking slightly embarrassed, as if he wishes his sister would use proper manners rather than burst in uninvited. He cradles a bottle of wine in the crook of his arm, and offers it to Dinah once they’re properly inside.

Laurel would much rather spend the night just her and Dinah, but the kids aren’t so bad. They’re a good distraction from her thoughts at least.

Lately, when it’s just her and Dinah, Laurel finds herself unsettled. It’s hard to be around her when Laurel feels some kind of way. 

That kind of way.

Being alone only serves to accentuate the pining Laurel has been doing in silence. She likes to think she hides it well, just covert glances and private daydreaming, but Laurel doesn’t trust in her abilities so much. She’s afraid somehow she’s giving off signals. Signals that will alert Dinah to her private thoughts.

Having Mia and William around assuages the fondness she feels for Dinah. A little bit. Or at least makes it more tolerable.

Laurel is across the loft when Mia and William enter the apartment. Dinah opens the bottle William supplies, while Mia grabs the glasses, and Laurel stands there stupidly, trying to appear like she isn’t crushing on her best friend.

She supposes that’s what they are: best friends. 

Laurel isn’t exactly one for friendship in general. Felicity’s her friend, but she’s in the past. Mia, Laurel figures, just barely counts, and William is an extension of her. Dinah is essentially Laurel’s only friend; by default, she’s Laurel’s best friend.

Laurel tries to convince herself that it’s her relative inexperience with genuine friendship that makes this whole thing with Dinah feel the way it does. Dinah makes her feel exhilarated just by giving Laurel attention. When Dinah smiles at her, the whole world blurs down to the single image of Dinah’s face.

Which is a totally normal friendship thing. Right?

As are all the sleepless nights Laurel spends thinking about what could be. What she’ll never have because of their past. Laurel frequently finds herself trying to shut down thoughts that appear in her mind without permission. Thoughts of Dinah’s smile and her beauty and her angelic singing voice.

Okay, so, maybe it’s not just a friendship thing.

Maybe Laurel is falling for Dinah, in a fashion more than crushing. Something closer to infatuation. It’s feeling like Dinah is the only person in the world Laurel could ever open up to and be vulnerable with. It’s thinking she and Dinah were meant to find each other across Earths. 

So, maybe it’s not just falling for Dinah.

Maybe Laurel’s in love with her.

(Hopelessly and stupidly, in a way that would normally make Laurel nauseous.)

They’re perfect matches in some ways. While aspects of their personalities are total opposites, other facets are exactly alike. Two sides of the same coin and all that. 

It’s stupid, but Laurel thinks they fit well together. Or they would, if Laurel wasn’t the person she is. If their past wasn’t what it is and if their history wasn’t so rocky.

After everything Laurel’s done, after everything they’ve been through, she’s really just lucky Dinah is her friend. Her roommate as well. Her confidant. To hope for anything more is wishful thinking. 

Laurel is content to long from afar until this whole thing goes away. (And she hopes it will, before Dinah catches on.)

“God, you’re obvious,” Mia says, startling Laurel out of her wistful thoughts and replacing them with a familiar glare.

“What are you on about?”

Mia rolls her eyes. “I wonder how long it will take for Dinah to realize you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not in love with her.”

Laurel is, but that’s not really the point. 

“Right. And I’m not Oliver Queen’s daughter.”

Laurel shoots a look that tells Mia to watch her mouth, but Mia just shrugs. She’s sort of immune to Laurel’s looks at this point. The girl really does take after her father. 

“I’m just saying,” Mia goes on, “keep staring like that and she’s bound to notice sooner or later.”

“I wasn’t staring.” Laurel hopes she wasn’t at least. But she probably needs to get better at hiding her leering if Mia is picking up on it.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Laurel is about to open her mouth with another protest, when Dinah asks Laurel to grab the extra blankets from the linen closet. Without hesitation, Laurel turns on her heels to abide Dinah’s request, shooting daggers from her eyes as she walks past Mia.

Mia makes a whip cracking motion, a smirk on her face, like getting blankets for movie night proves something about the state of Laurel and Dinah’s relationship.

Maybe it does.

Truth is, Laurel would do just about anything Dinah asked of her, without so much as a second thought. It’s not being whipped like Mia suggests though. It’s just that Dinah is the person Laurel trusts most in the world, so why wouldn’t she do anything to help Dinah out?

Or it’s that Dinah has Laurel under her spell, and Laurel is weak to it. 

It’s fine though. Laurel’s managing to hide this thing just fine.

When they settle in the living room to watch the chosen horror movie, Laurel purposefully picks the left most cushion. She’s practically atop the armrest in an attempt to distance herself from Dinah. Laurel just knows if she and Dinah sit too close together, Mia will send her some sort of look and she really doesn’t want to deal with it.

Dinah, of course, decides to sit closer than strictly necessary so they can share a blanket. Technically there are enough throws for everyone to have their own, but Dinah drapes one over her and Laurel both, like she didn’t even consider the other option. 

Mia looks over from across the couch in perfect timing to see this and purses her lips as Laurel frowns back. “Don’t,” Laurel mouths.

Mia turns back to the film, but not before clear self satisfaction crosses her face. She elbows William in the side and whispers something in his ear, prompting a chuckle.

The whole time, Laurel tries to focus only on the movie in front of them. If she thinks about Mia, her annoyance or anger will flare up. If Laurel thinks about Dinah, she’ll start spiraling.

It’s nearly impossible to prevent Dinah from taking occupancy in her mind though, because she’s curled up in Laurel’s side with their thighs pressed together. Every time there’s a jump scare or an ominous noise on screen, Dinah somehow gets closer to Laurel. Laurel swears her heart is ready to jump from her chest and it’s not from the stellar suspense on screen.

There’s a particularly startling pop-out on screen. In response, Dinah’s hand clamps down on Laurel’s thigh.

It feels like Laurel’s skin is on fire; this type of contact from Dinah is too much to bear. There’s a burning sensation right beneath Dinah’s hand, and it takes everything in Laurel’s power not to jolt away. She stiffens under Dinah’s grasp involuntarily.

Laurel manages to maintain just enough control of her actions to stand slowly rather than run from the scene. 

“More wine,” Laurel offers as an excuse for her movement. She crosses her fingers it doesn’t come out as flustered as it feels.

Once in the kitchen, Laurel sighs deeply. She settles her elbows on the counter and lets her head sink into her hands.

So, maybe this thing is getting out of hand. 

It’s not like her and Dinah don’t touch. Not like they don’t spend most hours of their life together either in the apartment or in the bar or fighting crime, getting the Canaries kickstarted. But when it’s touching like this, in ways that are too close for comfort, Laurel can’t seem to keep herself together.

This whole thing seems like some sort of sick joke. Being in love with her best friend, who is clearly only her friend. Laurel needs to get a grip.

Footsteps entering the kitchen bring Laurel out of her brooding. It’s William, twirling a wine glass between his fingers.

“Kind of hard to get more wine without a glass,” he singsongs.

“Whatever.” 

Laurel grabs the glass, taking a moment to refill it while she’s here.

“Seems to me like you made a mad dash out of there.” William shoots a knowing look.

“Seems to me like you should butt out.”

“Doubtful. Felicity did raise me.” _That much is obvious_ , Laurel thinks. “You and Dinah looked cozy.”

“You too? Jesus,” Laurel huffs. Whatever it is Mia and William think they know, they clearly know nothing about. They’re both too bold for their own good, and it’s more than Laurel has patience for. 

“You should just say something,” William offers. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

William moves to put a hand down over Laurel’s. Her first instinct is to rip it away, but William holds steady. “Sweetie, I can spot gay pining from a mile away. Trust me, I’m a bit of an expert.”

Laurel rolls her eyes. “You and your sister should mind your own business.”

Grabbing the stem of the wine glass, Laurel starts out of the kitchen. She’s almost out of earshot when she hears William mumble under his breath.

“Kind of hard to ignore how obvious you two are.”

Laurel doesn’t even dignify the comment with a response, but it doesn’t leave her mind the entire night. William said how obvious you _two_ are, as in not just Laurel. You two implies some sort of action on Dinah’s side. 

Which is just crazy.

Laurel settles back in at Dinah’s side, and Dinah immediately steals wine from Laurel’s glass. It’s impossible for Laurel not to notice the glistening purple on her lips. She focuses on it for a second before abruptly shifting her gaze to the television.

Obvious.

Well, at least Laurel is catching herself in the act. If she can manage to stop herself, maybe this whole thing will stay off Dinah’s radar.

When the next climactic point comes in the movie, Dinah’s hand searches out Laurel’s and squeezes it tightly. Laurel keeps her hand limp in response, too afraid to squeeze back in case Dinah might interpret it as something other than friendship. Because if Laurel really does let herself grasp Dinah’s hand in return, it wouldn't entirely be a friendly gesture and she doesn’t want to come across that way. 

From the opposite side of the couch, William clears his throat, tilting his head just so to make it obvious he is implying something. He mouths the word _obvious_ , and in response, Laurel flips him the bird with her non-occupied hand. 

Dinah flips their hands over, shifting in position so their fingers interlace, and, okay, maybe William has a point. His comment about them both being obvious seems possibly true. Not actually true - Laurel is positive Dinah really means this as friendly and it just appears like something else - but interlocking fingers isn’t entirely platonic in appearance.

At the very least, it indicates Dinah is happy to be near to Laurel. Laurel knows it doesn’t mean Dinah shares her feelings, but it’s nice to be this close. Even if it’s not in the way Laurel wishes it to be.

They last the rest of the movie with their fingers intertwined. Laurel doesn’t pay much attention to the plot. She’s too busy relishing in how nice it feels to be holding Dinah’s hand. For a second there, she can let herself pretend this could be something else. 

The way she’s hoping means Laurel’s crush really is running rampant. She needs to find a way to dampen her feelings, but with her and Dinah always joined at the hip, Laurel isn’t sure it’ll be possible.

She needs to do something before she bursts. There’s all this tension curling inside her chest making her anxious. Laurel doesn’t like hiding things from Dinah, but this absolutely needs to be hidden forever, or else she risks blowing up her life. 

Laurel keeps noticing looks from Mia and William out of the corner of her eye, and there’s nothing she wants more than to tell them off. They’re making this whole thing a bigger deal than she ever wanted it to be. Laurel issues the harshest scowl she can manage without tipping Dinah off, but it does little to dissuade the siblings.

Before they leave for the evening, William pulls Laurel aside.

“I know you don’t tend to take advice, but you should really tell Dinah how you feel.”

Laurel maintains her stance that she doesn’t know what he means.

“How you’re head over heels in love with her,” William says simply. Like Dinah isn’t her best friend and like it wouldn’t ruin their friendship and their living situation and the only thing that’s really a constant in Laurel’s crazy life. 

Laurel shakes her head fervently. “I have it under control.” 

It’s a lie. Laurel doesn’t have this under control. She needs to get it under control, but she hasn’t quite managed yet. 

“You don’t, and neither does Dinah.” 

And, wait, what’s that supposed to mean? Neither does Dinah? 

Her shock must be evident, because William says, “Laurel, you are the biggest cliché I’ve ever seen. Are you actually blind to how Dinah feels?”

“Dinah is my friend. You and Mia better get it through your heads.”

“But-”

Laurel crosses her arms. She knows about twenty ways to kill William in this very second, and she contorts her face to tell him just that. He throws his hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, don’t take my advice. Just pine forever.”

“That’s fine by me.” 

William looks disappointed as he walks towards the door, but he does it anyway. He makes eye contact with Mia who shakes her head, as if she was just on a mission and her side failed too.

Behind Mia trails Dinah, appearing annoyed. Maybe Oliver’s offspring weren’t just irritating Laurel today. 

Once it’s just Dinah and Laurel in the apartment alone, Laurel breathes a sigh of relief. Having Mia and William there normally gives her distraction to her own feelings, but tonight they were at the forefront of her mind. Now that they’ve left, Laurel only has two people to try and fool instead of four.

Dinah moves into the living room to start folding up the blankets. Laurel hesitates behind for a second, observing. Dinah looks as beautiful as always, even wearing a threadbare pajama shirt and flannel pants that are far too long. 

God, Laurel is so screwed. William was right in her being a cliché. Said cliché being someone whose best friend swept them off their feet. Unrequited love, the most foolish type of love there is. 

Dinah throws a smile over her shoulder, asks if Laurel is going to help her clean up, and Laurel’s feet are moving before her brain catches up. She’s wrapped around Dinah’s little finger. 

No matter what William and Mia seem to think, Laurel isn’t ready to risk this. She’ll just keep doing what she’s doing: watching from afar, yearning in secret, and pining forever, until this crush goes away. 

(If it goes away.)

Maybe it’s not the best solution, but, for now, it’ll have to do. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to those who yelled at me about the first chapter🎉 This was fully intended to be a one chapter thing, but here we are now! (To be clear, I am extremely grateful to write more of these idiots in love)

The plan to ignore her feelings until they go away, while promising, is, in fact, the worst.

It’s not okay. 

Not bad. 

No, it’s the confirmed absolute worst. 

It wouldn’t be _so_ terrible if the plan were actually working. If Laurel’s feelings had managed to dampen one iota, if the temperature were lowered by even one degree. Unfortunately, the exact opposite seems to be happening. 

Laurel’s feelings are only growing with each passing moment. 

“Remind me again why I thought Oliver’s kids would be good teammates?” Dinah complains, flopping on the recliner Laurel is already occupying. She drapes her legs over Laurel’s.

“There’s a whole couch right there, you know?” Laurel tries to keep her voice cool and steady, like Dinah isn’t encroaching on her personal space. 

This type of thing has been happening a lot lately. Without a reason, Dinah will lace her fingers with Laurel’s or tuck her feet under Laurel’s thighs. She’ll place her hand on Laurel’s lower back to pass her in the kitchen or lay her head on her shoulder or trace the seams of Laurel’s leggings when they’re relaxing at night. 

For someone who isn’t usually a touchy person, it seems like Dinah keeps finding any and every way to maintain contact with Laurel. It’s hard not to notice. And while it’s an incredible feeling, it also borders on hellish for Laurel. 

She loves being this close. She loves it, and she hates it, because it sparks what could be while simultaneously rubbing salt in the wound.

Laurel knows she should stop letting herself get into this situation. She should probably find an excuse not to be this close to Dinah - the whole thing borders on self-punishment - but Laurel can’t make herself pull away. 

She lets herself stand on the hot coals of Dinah’s touch. There’s a blistering heat fanning the flames of Laurel’s feelings, and Laurel thinks if this is Hell, it’s the sweetest kind of Hell there is.

“What’d the kids do?” Laurel inquires, mostly to focus on anything other than the press of Dinah’s body to her own.

The sigh Dinah lets out is one all too familiar. Sometimes Laurel will be on the verge of strangling Mia for her comments or ready to slap William. They’re every bit the people that raised them, topped with an extra superiority complex, and Laurel has no doubt they get under Dinah’s skin just as easily as they do her own.

Dinah readjusts herself on the recliner, leaning back to stretch out her legs with a groan. In the process, she wedges her torso over Laurel’s left arm. “You know that thing Felicity used to do?” Dinah asks.

The pressure against her arm is uncomfortable, and Laurel shrugs it out from under Dinah’s body, placing it behind Dinah’s neck instead. The position is more affectionate than Laurel would prefer. She’s firmly into clichéd first date territory, an arm slung across Dinah’s shoulder as they share a seat. Laurel tries not to think about it.

“Are we talking the ‘hack government databases' thing or the ‘inability to curse’ thing?”

Dinah chuckles. It hits Laurel’s ears like wind chimes, but not a metallic clanking belonging to a shitty neighbor; her laugh is a pleasant ringing that feels like a summer breeze. Laurel’s chest tightens.

“Neither, but great guesses. I’m referring to the ‘doesn’t know how to mind their own business’ thing.”

Laurel’s familiar. It was only three days ago when Laurel’s phone buzzed during an outing to the farmer’s market (Dinah’s idea, for the record), and Laurel was met with a text from William. The message contained an image of Dinah sifting through bouquets of flowers while Laurel watched with hearts in her eyes. 

Despite the numerous times Laurel has told William to pipe down, he simply won’t stop. (“It’s not my fault you aren’t more subtle!” William had protested, after she threatened death by sonic scream in response to the picture.) 

Laurel turns her head to the left and is met with Dinah’s eyes just inches away. It takes every ounce of willpower to wrest away the impending blush at the proximity.

Laurel asks her to elaborate on the kids’ antics. Dinah just grumbles something about them not knowing when to say when, sounding every bit as annoyed as Laurel is on a daily basis.

Dinah moves her head away from Laurel’s to look at the ceiling, closing her eyes as she sighs. They’re close enough that Laurel can see all the details of Dinah’s face. There’s a little mascara clumped on the bottom of her lashes; Laurel has the overwhelming urge to pull it off. 

It’s intimate. Too intimate. Laurel really needs to stop letting herself think things like this. 

She slips her arm out from behind Dinah’s neck to only minimal protesting and meanders towards the kitchen, intent to make some food. It’s also in an effort to maintain some distance. Pulling containers out of the refrigerator, Laurel asks Dinah if she’d prefer pizza or Chinese food.

“You’re making me dinner?” 

Dinah’s voice is filled with something Laurel can’t quite place. Something like shock, like interest. Also wonder, like maybe Dinah thinks Laurel’s offer of dinner means something. 

Maybe it does.

Laurel battles two reactions internally. The first threatens to tell Dinah she’d do anything for her. The second is the impulse to belittle the action into something small. To make certain this domestic act doesn’t indicate the extent of her feelings. 

Making dinner isn’t some huge love declaration, especially not when it’s just reheating leftovers. They’re roommates. This shouldn’t feel like something so big.

“Unless you don’t trust me to use the microwave,” Laurel jokes, beating back her affectionate thoughts. 

When she looks over at Dinah on the recliner, there’s a sweet smile on her face. It’s disarming. Laurel’s throat tightens once again, and she swivels away to focus on putting leftover fried rice on a plate.

“You’re the best,” Dinah says. 

Distantly, Laurel hears the strike of a match igniting a powder keg. 

Her heart hurts, actually hurts. 

Every time Laurel so much as glances Dinah’s way, there’s a pang in her chest, a dropping of her stomach. A perpetual knot has taken up residence in Laurel’s throat.

It’s nauseating. Or it would be, if it were anyone else.

Laurel’s never felt this way before. She’s never been this attached, never desired to spend so much time with one person. Dinah is simply breathtaking in every way. How could Laurel feel anything but warm when looking at her? 

Laurel stands in The Fish Net wiping down bar tops and collecting dirty glasses as Dinah plays at the piano. She’s not singing tonight, just rolling her fingers over the keys and letting the melody fill the room. Laurel is reminded of her first entrance into the bar all those months ago. If she thought her feelings were pronounced then…

Laurel supposes that’s why she hasn’t made any effort to find a new place. Despite months on an uncomfortable couch, she has no desire to live away from Dinah. If she did, there’d be no excuse to spend so much time here: observing Dinah in her element, lost in concentration and glowing with pride.

It’s the reverence Laurel holds for Dinah’s talent that prevents her from sensing Mia’s approach.

“For someone so mean, you really look soft right now.” Mia tilts her head with a smirk. 

“Get over yourself.”

Laurel goes back to her wiping off the table, pulling any remaining condensation into the rag. In her peripherals, she sees Mia eyeing her suspiciously. 

“What?” Laurel sighs.

“You know what.” Mia’s reply, while true, is still irritating. 

Laurel continues to clean. She’s pretty sure the table is bordering on waxed, a glistening shine forming from her repetitive actions. 

Mia sings her next words without looking directly at Laurel, verbalizing her musings in a pointed way. “If you don’t talk to Dinah soon, maybe I will.”

In shock, Laurel jerks her hand too quickly. It knocks a glass off the bar top. The cup lands with a crash, shattering into small shards. _Great_ , just another thing for Laurel to deal with. Laurel grabs the broom from behind the bar, stomping the whole way there and back to make her scorn known to Mia. 

“My sister’s a time traveler,” Laurel threatens, scooping fragments into a dustpan. “If you even _think_ about telling Dinah, I’ll go back in time and interrupt an event very important to your existence.”

“Gross.” Mia kicks a stray shard in Laurel’s direction. “Given how much you claim not to care about anything, you sure seem to care if I tell Dinah about your feelings.”

“What feelings?” 

Mia’s face shows her exasperation. Laurel figures it’s a fair reaction; it seems like they have a version of this conversation every time they’re together. 

“It’s like talking to a brick wall,” Mia groans, with a roll of her eyes. 

It’s more like talking in circles. An endless loop of _tell Dinah you love her_ and _I don’t know what you’re talking about_ and _your feelings are so blatant a blind man could see._ Usually there’s a comment thrown in about the two of them as well, something that implies Dinah is in the same boat. Something like, “If either of you opened your eyes, you’d see what’s right in front of you.”

Laurel’s tired of it. All the comments, the gentle nudges, the forceful suggestions, and the minimally concealed threats only serve to remind Laurel how one sided this thing is. It only makes her feel more alone. 

The last person Laurel wants to talk to about all of this is Mia. They’ve had their few requisite heart-to-hearts; most of them were like pulling teeth. Emotional vulnerability and empathy are still hard to come by with people who aren’t Dinah.

Figures the only person Laurel would want to talk to is the one person she can’t.

Laurel brushes off her knees as she returns to stand, a dustpan filled with glass in her hand. “Look, I get that you’re young, and all of this love stuff seems nice and shiny and new-” Laurel pauses in contemplation, furrowing her eyebrows. “Which is interesting, considering your J.J. situation.”

Mia tuts disapprovingly.

“But you and your brother need to get the message. Nothing is going to happen between Dinah and I, and this thing you’re doing, it’s making it all worse.”

Mia’s arms cross as she argues, “ _You’re_ the one making it worse.” 

Laurel mimics Mia’s stance. They’re both obstinate, filled with antagonistic attitudes that show no sign of yielding. Mia purses her lips in defiance as Laurel screws up her eyes in a glare.

“I’m not making it worse by keeping this to myself. You want to know what would happen? What would happen if I said ‘Hey Dinah, I know we’re friends, but I’d be cool with something more if you’re into it’? Dinah, she’d -”

“What about me?” 

There’s an inquisitive voice behind Laurel’s shoulder. In her brooding, Laurel hadn’t even noticed the piano run silent, never mind seen Dinah approach. She crosses her fingers in hopes Dinah didn’t overhear the exact conversation she’s been avoiding. 

Dinah looks expectantly as she idles towards the quarrelsome duo. She loops an arm around Laurel’s waist, waiting for her answer. 

It’s impossible for Laurel to miss the way Mia’s eyebrow cocks at the embrace.

“How much of that did you hear?” Laurel holds her breath as she waits for the inevitable answer of _all of it._

“Just my name.” Dinah tilts her head. “Why? Talking shit?”

“I don’t think Laurel would ever talk bad about you, Dinah,” Mia supplies. Silently, Laurel commands her to stop. Mia ignores the request, as per usual. “In fact, Laurel was just telling me how-”

If it wouldn’t be suspicious, Laurel would clamp her hand down over Mia’s mouth and render her non-verbal. Duct tape would also be an appropriate tool right about now. In lieu of incapacitating their younger counterpart, Laurel interrupts with, “Did you come here with a purpose? Or was it just to annoy me?”

Something seems to shift in Mia, and she recalls the reason behind her unexpected visit. There are rumors of an upcoming Deathstroke meeting in the Glades.

They shift into business mode, all black Kevlar and stealthy plans and everything poles apart from deep feelings. It isn’t until they return sometime around midnight that Laurel considers how close she was to being busted. 

Dinah almost heard her in the middle of a love confession. It could have been devastating. 

Lately, William and Mia are making every effort to expose Laurel. She absolutely needs to put a stop to it. Maybe Laurel can talk to Sara about dropping them in the Vanishing Point for a lifetime or two. 

Laurel spends longer than necessary in the shower, using it as time to clear her head. It’s not that she doesn’t love living with Dinah, because Laurel absolutely does, but it’s hard not to feel the walls closing in when it’s the two of them alone in an apartment. The steady interaction makes denying her feelings a near-impossible task.

She exits the bathroom to the sight of Dinah in the kitchen. She’s flushed from her own shower earlier, her hair in damp curls just starting to frizz as they air dry. Dinah’s pajamas are relaxed and homey: grey sweatpants loose on her hips and a sweater that keeps sliding off her shoulders. The arms are a little too long, so they’re bunched up by her elbows.

Laurel doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of seeing Dinah this way, all warm and unguarded. Logically, Laurel understands Dinah doesn’t look this way for her. She looks this way because she’s in her own apartment and it’s late at night and there’s no one else around. It doesn’t change the tender swell Laurel feels at Dinah looking this casual.

It takes a second of observation for the realization to kick in: the sweater Dinah wears is Laurel’s. Cue the warmth blooming in her heart. 

For anyone else, seeing their roommate wear their top is indicative of a laundry mix-up. Laurel’s heart interprets it as a declaration, even when her mind knows better. 

Dinah turns from her position at the stove, bobbing a teabag a few times in a mug. She juts her chin towards another steaming cup on the counter. “Made you tea.”

As if she wasn’t already warm enough, now there’s this. An incredibly thoughtful gesture from Dinah. Laurel doesn’t even need to drink the tea to be toasty from her head to her toes.

It’s not meant to be a grand gesture - it’s a friend making another a drink because they had a long day and it’s almost bedtime and Laurel tends to have a cup after a stressful mission. It’s not meant to be a grand gesture, but it sure feels like it is.

(In the back of her mind, Laurel can practically hear the comments Mia and William would make about the situation. How it borders on romantic and how she should look with actions, not words and blah, blah, blah.)

It’s perfect when Laurel takes a sip. Dinah knows the way Laurel prefers her tea, knows the right strength and the exact amount of honey. The whole thing makes Laurel want nothing more than to kiss Dinah right now.

She takes a place on the couch instead. 

Laurel’s sheets have already been laid out. She sits with the comforter over her lap, but leaves the corner turned down, in clear invitation for Dinah to join. Dinah accepts. 

It’s all incredibly comfortable and ordinary, and Laurel thinks she could live in this moment forever. Just her and Dinah and being warm under the blankets with a mug in her hand and Dinah sitting closer than she’s obligated to.

And then Dinah requests to play with Laurel’s hair. Laurel’s pretty sure she could combust. 

Laurel settles at the foot of the couch, her back resting between Dinah’s legs as she begins fiddling with Laurel’s hair. Dinah braids short little pieces before untwisting them, playing absentmindedly. It feels _amazing_. Laurel’s heart grows about fourteen times larger. 

It’s so easy to relax into Dinah’s touch, even when Laurel thinks she should be freaking out. Partially she is, because Laurel knows she’s walking right into the fire and there’s no way she’s going to get out of this crush unscathed. The rest of her eases into the comfort of Dinah’s gentle hands on her scalp. 

There’s never been anyone else Laurel is this relaxed around. No one she’s allowed to touch her so casually and always be so close. Everything about the encounter makes Laurel feel soft, but because it’s Dinah, Laurel loves it. 

She’s dipped her head back, let her eyes flutter shut, when Dinah says a dreaded phrase.

“Can I ask something?”

Laurel stiffens. Those words hardly ever signify an easy conversation; usually they’re reserved for the kind of conversation that makes Laurel wish she never got close to anyone. She keeps her gaze firmly forward as she nods.

Dinah’s fingers are still dancing through Laurel’s hair, fiddling without a purpose. With each passing second of silence, Laurel gets more anxious. Eventually Dinah says, “You’re my best friend.”

The words are weighted, like they mean something more. Like the thought is unfinished. Laurel waits for Dinah to add the proverbial _but_ to the end of the sentence.

“Not really a question, D.” Despite her light tone, Laurel worries where this conversation is going. Probably nowhere good. 

Dinah’s fingers stop their movement, and Laurel turns to look up at her. Dinah’s face is distorted into something troubled. It’s unnerving.

“You’re my best friend,” Dinah repeats, “possibly the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want to ruin that.”

The declaration should feel good. It’s confirmation the connection between them is something real. Her and Dinah aren’t friends because there’s no one else; Dinah’s saying this in a way that makes it clear Laurel is her best friend out of choice, not by default. It’s the delivery that makes the whole thing unsettling.

Laurel repositions herself to be on the couch, facing Dinah cross-legged. Dinah is clearly uneasy. She makes work of playing with the elastic at the ankle of her sweatpants, stretching it then letting it snap back. 

“You’re my best friend too,” Laurel answers hesitantly. It’s the truest phrase she’s ever uttered, but Dinah’s tension has Laurel questioning if it’s the right thing to say. She calms Dinah’s frantic fingers by placing her palm over the back of Dinah’s hands. Her fiddling stops, and she looks up to meet Laurel’s eyes. “You’re kind of freaking me out right now.”

Since showing up in 2040, Laurel’s become familiar with a calm Dinah. Zen is practically her middle name. Dinah is nearly always at ease; at the very least, she’s always at ease around Laurel. This kind of behavior is reserved for someone else. 

“I overheard what you were saying to Mia earlier.”

All the color drains from Laurel’s face as her stomach drops. It feels like someone just pulled the rug out from under her. Laurel seizes up, and she snatches her hand away from the top of Dinah’s.

“You weren’t meant to hear that.” Laurel’s voice is so low she wonders if Dinah even catches the words. Dinah wasn’t supposed to hear her admission. Dread curls in her belly as Laurel awaits Dinah’s rejection sure to come. 

Dinah is gentle in her response, her voice quiet and inquisitive. “Why didn't you tell me?”

The way Dinah is looking at her is almost too much to bear. Laurel thinks it looks like pity. 

Laurel knows any sort of deflection will be the exact wrong response, but she hates this. Being this vulnerable. Dinah already heard her, heard Laurel say she was interested in something beyond friendship, but admitting it is steps too far. Laurel shakes her head.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Laurel whispers. It’s almost a plea. The compassion is agonizing. 

“Like what?” 

“Like,” Laurel gestures with her hand, exasperated, “like I’m some charity case.”

Laurel waits for the impending turn down. Waits for Dinah to say _you’re my friend, and I love you, but not like that_. Waits for the _it would make things weird_. Waits for the _I just don’t see you that way_.

Dinah shakes her head, tells Laurel she’s not a charity case, but she’s still looking at her with such softness in her eyes Laurel can’t stand it. 

“I wish you had told me,” Dinah says. 

Laurel’s _I couldn’t_ is barely perceptible. Why didn’t Dinah see that she couldn’t? It’s about to ruin everything. It's about to destroy the gentle, good, amazing thing they have going, and it’s all Laurel's fault. All because of some stupid feelings she let get out of control. 

“I wish you had told me, because I feel the same way,” Dinah clarifies. 

The world stops spinning momentarily. 

There’s the hint of a smile on Dinah’s lips, small and unassuming. She reaches towards Laurel’s hand, then seems to think better of it, settling instead for resting her palms awkwardly in her lap.

“Didn’t you ever wonder about me?” Dinah asks. “Why I never go on any dates or why I’m so comfortable with you?”

Laurel just sits there, brows furrowed and mouth slightly gaping. The whole thing is incomprehensible.

“I was playing with your hair, Laurel. You _know_ I’m not a touchy person. What did you think that meant?”

Laurel hasn’t thought about what those things mean beyond friendship, because anything more was just wishful thinking. Sure, she’s noticed Dinah and her are close. Dinah is closer than she’s seen her with anyone else, but Laurel was so positive it didn’t mean _that_. 

Finally, Laurel’s mind starts to kick in gear and allows her to do something other than sit paralyzed in stunned silence. She grabs Dinah’s hand and sandwiches it between her own. Dinah’s eyes flick down to observe, and when Laurel meets Dinah’s face again, her smile is broader.

“God, I should’ve listened to the kids,” Laurel groans, shaking her head.

Now it’s Dinah’s turn to stare with her jaw dropped. “They bothered you too?”

“Bothered? More like harassed me about my feelings for you.” Just because they turned out to be right doesn’t make their actions any less irritating. Laurel still needs to find a way to reprimand them so they don’t make this a habit in the future.

“And to be clear,” Dinah starts, scooting herself closer to Laurel, “those feelings are?”

It’s already out there. Laurel may as well show all her cards. 

“That I’m in love with you, and I have been for a while now. I just didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

“You couldn’t.” 

Laurel doesn’t know who leans in first.

She feels Dinah’s hand slide out from between her own and find its way to Laurel’s thigh. She feels the cushion shift beneath them as Laurel presses herself closer to Dinah. The space between them minimizes, and then they’re kissing.

It’s far softer than any kiss Laurel has shared before, but it seems to mean more that way. It’s been years since Laurel’s kissed anyone she really cares for. Years since she’s been with anyone she’s in love with. 

Dinah smiles against her lips as they pull apart, but stops before there’s too much distance. Their foreheads rest together.

Laurel isn’t sure how long they stay there, caught in their own little bubble. 

“We should probably talk about what comes next,” Laurel whispers. Her words ghost over Dinah’s lips.

“Probably.” 

It’s the sensible thing to do, to be adults and talk through their feelings. Endorphins are clouding Laurel’s head at the moment though. Talking seems like the less desirable option.

Laurel pitches another suggestion. “Or we could not.”

Dinah nods. Their foreheads bounce together in the process, and Laurel lets out a little chuckle with the motion. 

This time it’s clear: no one leans in first. Dinah is just as in this as she is. 

Later that night, Laurel lies in bed. Dinah has her head pressed to Laurel’s bare chest, and her fingers trace along Laurel’s collarbone. 

A horrendous thought pops into Laurel’s mind: she’s going to have to tell Mia and William they were right. 

It’s clear the kids knew from the beginning how both Laurel and Dinah felt. In hindsight, both of them _were_ being obvious. They’re never going to let Laurel live this down. The ridicule is going to be endless.

Dinah snuggles up closer, pressing a kiss to Laurel’s chest. “What’re you thinking about?”

Laurel groans, “The damn kids.”

Dinah laughs good-naturedly. The wind chimes dance right into Laurel’s heart. 


End file.
